


Her Darker Side

by Persiflage



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: But Definitely Flirting with it a bit!, Clothed Sex, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Episode Related, Episode: s01e14 The War Without The War Within, Episode: s01e15 Will You Take My Hand?, Episode: s02e05 Saints of Imperfection, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fingerfucking, Michael Not Quite Succumbing to the Dark Side, My Muse is a Bitch and a Hard Taskmistress, POV Character of Color, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Strap-Ons, Wall Sex, Weapons Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 20:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18351539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Not canon-compliant but borrows heavily from canon to explore Michael Burnham and her flirtation with the 'dark side' of getting involved with Emperor Georgiou.





	Her Darker Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acardio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acardio/gifts).



> I looked at the scene where the Emperor holds Michael at dagger point, and Michael says 'Philippa', and then my brain went to a strange (for me!) dark place, and this happened.
> 
> NB Some dialogue borrowed (and occasionally adapted) from the three mentioned episodes.

The moment when this other version of her former Captain, the Emperor Philippa Georgiou, holds a dagger to her throat and Commander Michael Burnham feels a thrill of sexual arousal is shocking. She doesn’t have a thing for violent sex, she knows this much about herself, and she never wanted her version of Philippa to hurt her, so why is her treacherous body reacting like this. She feels a surge of shame and anger at her subconscious, but she doesn’t have time for this, any of this, so she shuts it away in a corner of her mind, and focuses on staying alive so she can get back to her crew and help them escape this violent place.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

When Michael saves the former Terran Emperor by snatching her aboard the _Discovery_ she tells herself that it’s because she didn’t want to watch another version of Philippa die.

She believes that for all of a few hours before she takes herself to the other woman’s quarters and enters.

The Terran is lounging on a couch and eyes her with disfavour when she enters her quarters, which Michael finds unsurprising, but also irrelevant at the moment.

“I’m going to tell you something personal,” Michael tells Georgiou, “and you can either do something about what I tell you, or you can throw me out of here.”

That piques the Terran’s interest, as Michael suspected it would, and she takes a deep breath, then admits, “When you held that dagger to my throat on the _Charon_ , I felt sexually aroused.”

Georgiou sits upright, staring at Michael, then she gets to her feet and crosses to where Michael stands. “Is that so,” she says softly, then she steps into Michael’s personal space and the dagger is suddenly at her throat again. Michael can’t quite bite back a moan as the cold metal pricks at her throat.

“Did you come here so I would fuck you, Starfleet?”

“Yes,” Michael whispers.

“And what if I’m not in the mood?” The words are snarled in her face and Michael shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t actually feel.

“So throw me out,” she says. “And I’ll go back to my own quarters and try to satisfy myself.”

The Terran smirks, then reaches down and grabs Michael’s wrist to guide her across to the bed, the dagger still held at her throat.

“Do you want me to rape you?” The question is tossed at her, as if Georgiou wants to test her.

“No,” Michael says firmly “I don’t want you to rape me.”

“Do you want me to cut you?”

“No, I don’t want you to cut me.”

“Do you want me to bite you? Scratch you?”

“Not enough to draw a lot of blood,” Michael says.

“Do you want me to humiliate you?”

“I don’t mind begging, but nothing more humiliating than that. I won’t lick your boots or whatever else of that kind you might ask.”

The other woman nods. “But you want me to take charge of you,” Georgiou says. 

Michael takes a deep breath in, holds it a moment, then exhales slowly. “I agree,” she says quietly.

“Then let’s see just how breakable you are, Starfleet,” she says with a smirk. 

Michael quickly finds herself stripped out of her uniform with a ruthless efficiency that a corner of her mind admires. She is tumbled onto her back on the bed, and watches, jittering slightly, as the Terran pulls off her boots, strips off her armour, belt, and jacket before she climbs onto the bed beside her dressed only in her leather pants and a tight black tank against which her erect nipples are poking. Michael will admit to feeling a little relieved when Georgiou sets her dagger aside on the nightstand. 

“I’m assuming you’re not actually a virgin,” she says.

Michael feels her throat close on the words of her response and can only stare mutely up at the Emperor as her mind flashes back to Voq, his hands around her throat, threatening to kill her for T’Kuvma.

“Starfleet!” The Terran sounds every inch the Emperor she was when she snaps the word at Michael, and she glares down at her when Michael focuses on her again. “Where did you go, then?” she demands, sounding quite furious.

Michael shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agrees, her tone savage. “Stay focused on me or this ends. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Michael answers immediately, and sees a gleam come into the other woman’s eyes.

“I like my partners compliant,” Georgiou says. “If you do as I tell you, I will give you a great deal of pleasure. If you do not, then I will make you regret being disobedient.”

Michael nods her comprehension. She isn't sure exactly what to expect from the Emperor. She is very well aware that her sex life, such as it's previously been, has been tame. And she very strongly suspects that the Terran woman is probably into whips and leather at the very least. Certainly, Georgiou seems to know what she's doing, which is a relief to Michael, who barely knows what she is doing, besides submitting herself to the Terran. It occurs to her abruptly that the Emperor might just decide to take her revenge on her for having been dragged here against her will.

She finds herself pulled abruptly from her thoughts by teeth biting on her bottom lip.

“Do you want this or not?” demands Georgiou, sounding really pissed off now. 

“I'm sorry,” Michael says with a grimace. “I let myself get distracted.” 

“Well don't. Keep your eyes open and your focus on me, or so help me, I'll shove you bare-assed into the corridor outside and leave you to explain to any passers-by how you ended up naked.” The Emperor stares at her, expression shrewd. “Unless you'd get off on that?” She directs a suggestive leer at Michael, who shudders in horror at idea, which seems to amuse Georgiou. “Thought not,” she says with satisfaction.

She kneels over Michael’s waist and picks up the dagger again. “Why did you get aroused when I put this to your throat?” she asks, pressing the point against Michael’s skin. 

Michael feels her entire body tighten, especially her sex. “I don’t – I don’t know,” she answers truthfully. 

“Your version of me didn’t do this to you?” Georgiou asks.

“We never had a sexual relationship.”

The other woman rolls her eyes at this response. “Spread your legs,” she orders, and Michael obeys. “Are you wet now?” She swivels around far enough to push two fingers into Michael’s sex, and hums in apparent satisfaction when she discovers that Michael is growing wetter by the minute.

“Perhaps it’s simply the dagger itself you find arousing,” the Terran muses, and sheathing the blade, she reaches down and shoves the handle inside Michael, who cries out in shock. She feels her muscles clench around it as Georgiou proceeds to fuck her with it. She’s embarrassed by how easily she climaxes and how hard – her vision whites out for a few moments, and when she can focus again, Philippa is looking very satisfied.

“Well, well, that was very telling,” she observes. 

Michael doesn’t say anything, she can’t – she is embarrassed, but also a little scared that she’s just had what might be the most powerful orgasm ever since she first started experimenting sexually. To her relief, Philippa slides the dagger back out and puts it aside once more, then she settles on her belly and looks up at Michael, who just stares back, wondering what else she’s going to unexpectedly discover she enjoys. 

To her relief, the Terran ducks her head and buries her mouth between her thighs, sending her to two more climaxes before she scrapes her teeth over the tender skin of Michael’s inner thighs. The biting is unexpected, and the fact that Philippa casually shoves two fingers into her sex as she bites down, giving Michael two more orgasms, one for each thigh, makes her a little dizzy.

“Fuck,” she gasps, her body trembling from so many climaxes so close together.

Philippa hums, then pushes up onto her knees and looks down at her with so much satisfaction in her eyes that Michael’s entire body flushes with heat.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Starfleet,” she says, and smirks wickedly.

Michael groans raggedly. “Can we at least take five so I can rehydrate?” she asks plaintively.

Philippa rolls her eyes, then climbs off the bed to fetch her a glass of water. She even helps Michael to sit up so she can drink it. “You’re such a lightweight,” she says, but her tone is – well Michael would call it fond from anyone else.

“This is my first time doing this kind of thing,” she explains. “And my last relationship didn’t end well.”

To her surprise, Philippa asks, “What happened?” and she actually sounds as if she wants to know, so Michael explains briefly between mouthfuls of water.

The Terran shakes her head, then takes the empty glass from Michael and sets it beside her dagger. 

“You need to find someone who’ll take care of you properly,” she says, and Michael raises an eyebrow.

“Are you volunteering?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Michael. You’re just here to gratify your sexual deviancy, or whatever you think you should label this.” She rolls her eyes, then climbs back onto the bed. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Michael finds it interesting that the Terran used her given name – it’s the first time she’s done that since they started this, although she knows that Georgiou has already graduated to ‘Philippa’ in her mind. Whatever the other woman might think, this isn’t just sex.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

By the time Philippa announces she’s done with Michael she’s lost track of how many times she’s climaxed, and she’s completely sated, and feeling totally boneless. She also has bite marks and the beginnings of bruising around the bites on both her inner thighs, both her breasts, and one at the base of her throat. There are also some fine scratch-like marks on her throat – the result of Philippa grazing it with her teeth. And she has a hickey. She thinks it’s just as well their uniform jackets zip up high around the neck. She’s also a bit sore, but she notices that the buzz of tension that’s been filling her since their ship jumped into the Terran universe has gone.

“Come on,” Philippa says. “You need a shower.” She helps Michael off the bed, and across the room into the ensuite bathroom. Then she sheds her leather pants, her panties, and her tank, before she guides Michael into the shower unit. 

“I do know how to shower by myself,” she says.

Philippa rolls her eyes. “Of course you do, but your legs are still shaking, and if you fall down and hit your head, how do you imagine I’m going to explain why you’re naked in my shower?”

“Right,” Michael says, swallowing at the thought. She imagines that Admiral Cornwell would be quite caustic on the matter.

Philippa positions her under the spray, then grabs the shower gel and goes to work, and Michael finds herself growing aroused all over again. She really does have it bad for this woman, and it scares her a bit, given just who this Georgiou is – Michael doesn’t usually make a habit of consorting with genocidal mass murderers. 

“Be a good girl, Michael, and get your fingers in me.” Michael stares at Philippa, startled by the request. “What, you thought I was unaffected by fucking you six ways to Sunday?” The Terran rolls her eyes, and Michael flushes as she realises that she had assumed that Philippa wasn’t affected.

She clasps Philippa’s hip in her left hand and strokes the tips of two fingers between the other woman’s thighs. Philippa widens her stance, opening herself up further, and Michael bites back a moan, then repeats the stroking gesture before beginning to ease her fingers into Philippa’s sex.

“You can be rougher than that,” the Terran grates out, then she grabs Michael’s wrist and shoves her fingers harder inside herself.

“Fuck!” Michael gasps at the unexpected move, and at how very wet Philippa is, and not from the shower. 

“Good girl,” Philippa groans, then, “Give me another finger.”

Michael obeys, sliding the two fingers out, then sliding three inside. “Is that okay?”

“Harder,” Philippa grunts. 

Michael twists her hand a little, then thrusts hard, and is rewarded by Philippa’s inner walls clenching tightly around her fingers so that she cannot move them until she relaxes again.

“More,” Philippa commands, and Michael sinks to her knees, her other hand still gripping the other woman’s hip, then she proceeds to fuck Philippa hard with three fingers buried inside her sex. She thinks it might be the most erotic thing she’s ever done, but she doesn’t dwell on that. All that matters is making the Terran climax as many times as she can.

Eventually, after four orgasms, Philippa calls a halt, and Michael eases her fingers free, then wonders if her knees are still functioning. Luckily Philippa hauls her up, then she tugs Michael’s body against her own.

“Darling, you are magnificent,” she says, and kisses Michael – the first time that they’ve kissed in such a fashion; she’s had her mouth on various other parts of Michael’s body, but not on her mouth before. 

“Any time you want me to play with you, and cater to your darker side, you can come to me, and I promise I’ll fuck you senseless.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, startled by the offer, but grateful, too.

“Now we’d better get dressed and get you out of here before someone starts wondering where you are.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees, somewhat surprised no one’s called for her before now. 

They dress in silence, and Michael feels oddly like they’ll never see it each other again, which she knows is nonsense. She doesn’t say anything, but she wonders if Philippa feels the same way because she grabs Michael’s wrist just as she’s about to walk out, then hauls her in for a prolonged kiss and a quick grope of her ass.

“Don’t be a stranger, Michael,” Philippa says.

“I won’t,” Michael promises, perhaps rashly, as she has no idea what Starfleet Command is going to decide to do with this woman.

Philippa releases her, then nods, and Michael nods back, then turns around and walks out without looking back.

II

When Admiral Cornwell introduces the former Terran Emperor onto the Bridge as the missing Captain Philippa Georgiou, Michael is as stunned as everyone else. She also feels a surge of heat through her body when Philippa catches her eye and winks before she takes the Captain’s chair. She doesn’t know what to make of this turn of events – on the one hand it makes a kind of sense, given Georgiou knows more about dealing with the Klingons than the Federation does, but on the other hand, Michael knows that the Terran has a fair amount of contempt for both the Federation and Starfleet, and she cannot be entirely sure that the Emperor won’t decide to go off script and just do whatever the hell she feels like doing. 

Her unease doesn’t improve when Admiral Cornwell steps to her side and says, in a low voice, “I’m assigning you as her keeper, Specialist Burnham.”

“Keeper?” Michael queries.

“Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t go off mission.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Michael says, barely repressing a sigh at the impossibility, or so it seems to her, of her task.

When she takes Georgiou to talk to Tyler, his knowledge of Qo’noS being more recent and accurate than any that Starfleet can acquire, she can’t help worrying that the other woman will say something revealing to the former Klingon agent, something that will make clear to Tyler that she and Michael have entered into a sexual relationship. She’s unsurprised when Philippa decides that Tyler should be a member of the landing party to Qo’noS, but she isn’t comfortable at the prospect. Then again, nothing about this situation makes her feel particularly comfortable.

They’re at the door of Tyler’s quarters when Philippa turns back and delivers her parting shot. “By the way, Mr Tyler, if you ever try to kill Michael Burnham again, I will personally rend you limb from limb. Understand?”

Tyler swallows, then nods. “Understood, Captain.”

Philippa nods, then leads the way out. Michael waits until they’re in a turbolift before speaking, then asks, “What was that all about?”

“What do you think it was about?” counters Philippa. “If he – or anyone else – harms you, they will themselves come to harm.”

“Philippa,” Michael says exasperated. “You can’t just go around casually threatening people you think might hurt me.”

The Terran growls, then crowds her against the turbolift wall. “I can, and I will. You’re mine now. The only one who gets to hurt you is me, and only if you ask for it.”

Michael swallows, fighting a sudden surge of desire at the dark look in the other woman’s eye.

Fortunately, the turbolift slows to a stop, and Philippa steps back, straightening her uniform jacket. Then she turns to the doors. Michael pushes herself off the wall, tugs at her jacket, then runs both hands over her hair just as the doors open and Philippa steps out. 

Michael feels shaken and a little disturbed at how much she wants Georgiou now that they’ve had sex, as opposed to how much she’d wanted her Philippa. She can feel her breasts are aching and her nipples are tight, and her sex is growing wetter, and she wants as she’s never wanted anyone before. She shoves aside all thoughts of Philippa pushing her against a wall and fucking her until her knees turn to jelly, and forcibly focuses her mind on their mission.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

Down on Qo’noS, they sell a cache of some of the many weapons the Terran Lorca had previously stashed away, then Philippa decides to send Tyler and Tilly off to see if they can buy some information on the shrine, while she leads Michael into a nearby bar. Michael feels uneasy at the thought of Tilly going with Tyler, not that she thinks he’ll attack Tilly – she just knows that Tilly’s still fairly inexperienced at these kinds of missions, compared to herself. 

“Relax, Michael,” Philippa orders, pulling her down onto a couch in front of which three mostly naked Orions are dancing. “We need to blend in.”

“And just how do you –” Michael begins, but gets no further because Philippa has slid her left hand between Michael’s thighs, and wrapped her right arm around her shoulders as she leans in and nips at Michael’s earlobe. A rush of heat and desire courses through Michael’s veins, and she barely bites back a moan when Philippa opens her pants and slips her hand inside to touch her. 

“Philippa,” she groans, aware she’s growing embarrassingly wet considering they’re in a public place.

“Michael, darling, you need to relax,” the Terran says, her breath hot on her ear. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

Her hand slips over Michael’s mound, then she insinuates two fingers into her sex, moaning against Michael’s ear when she discovers she’s already incredibly wet.

“My darling, you’re so delicious.” Philippa’s fingers push deeper, and Michael can do nothing except let her have her way. 

She comes hard, Philippa’s mouth on hers, swallowing her moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Did I tell you that you’re even more gorgeous when you come?” 

“No,” Michael says dazedly.

“You are.” Philippa withdraws her fingers, then presses the tips against Michael’s mouth, and she sucks them in, laving them thoroughly and shivering at the taste of herself on Philippa’s fingers.

“Good girl,” Philippa whispers. Then she beckons as the Orions finish dancing. “How much for a little ‘me time’ for the two of us and two of you?” she asks, and the Orion man nods across the bar to a curtained off area.

“Over there,” he says.

Philippa gets to her feet, her movements lithe, and Michael finds herself wanting her all over again. The Terran leans down and helps her to her feet, then guides her across the bar, bringing the man and one of the two women with them. Michael finds herself being led across to a large bed covered in furs, with a number of pillows scattered around its edges. Philippa eases her down onto the bed, then beckons to the Orion woman. 

“Keep this one company for me, darling,” she says to Michael. “Kissing and cuddling are allowed, but no fucking.” She leans in and bites on Michael’s bottom lip. “Only I’m allowed to fuck you, understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Michael answers.

“Good girl.” She turns to the man, and pushes him down onto the bed, then climbs up and straddles him, grinding herself against his obvious erection. “Aren’t you a big boy?” she purrs, and Michael feels a spike of jealousy as she realises the Terran intends to fuck this man. She pushes it aside, telling herself she has no business to feel jealous. But she can’t help herself.

The Orion woman settles beside her, sliding an arm around her body, and Michael has to restrain her instinctive recoil: she’s not the greatest fan of cuddling, and feels even more uncomfortable doing so with a stranger. Plus, she has no experience at picking up strangers in bars for casual sex. 

She tries to relax as the woman dancer leans in and begins licking her cheek and neck, but her eyes are fixed on Philippa who has now shed her pants and pushed aside the fabric of her panties to sink down on the man’s thick cock. She feels a spike of want shoot down her spine and into her sex, and she reaches down to cup herself through her pants. A moment later Philippa’s hand smacks her leg.

“Don’t you dare make yourself come,” the Terran scolds, her gaze fixed firmly on Michael even as she rides the man beneath her. “No one gets to do that but me. Understood?”

Michael swallows, removes her hand, then nods, and the Terran stares at her for several long moments, then nods in satisfaction. “Good girl.”

She wishes that Philippa’s ‘Good girl’ didn’t affect her as much as it does, and that she wasn’t so aware of her body as she is now: she can feel her sex pulsing with want, and knows that she’ll have to change her panties when she gets back to the ship as they are soaked.

“Is she your mistress?” asks the Orion woman, and Michael startles at the question, her mouth opening to deny that relationship, then she re-thinks and says, “Yes.”

“She’s very sexy.”

“Very,” agrees Michael easily.

Philippa finishes with the man a few minutes later, and lifts herself off him, then turns to Michael. “Your turn,” she says, and beckons imperiously.

Michael crawls across the bed, and Philippa settles against a mound of the pillows, her legs stretched before her. “Take off your pants, then sit on my lap, darling, and unzip me.” 

She’s divested herself of her outer layers of clothing, leaving her in a black, zip up basque, and her black panties. Michael obeys, biting her own bottom lip as she straddles Philippa’s lap, then pulls down the zipper on the basque, peeling the two halves apart to expose her full breasts. 

“I want you to play with my tits while I fingerfuck you,” she says, and Michael swallows a moan. She does moan a few moments later when Philippa slips two fingers into her sex without warning. She cups the Terran’s breasts in both hands, feeling the silky smoothness of Philippa’s skin against her palms, before she pinches and rolls her nipples between forefinger and thumb.

Philippa leans up enough to get her mouth by Michael’s ear, “Pinch them properly hard, darling – I want to come with your hands on my body, and my tongue in your mouth.” Her free hand comes up to cup the back of Michael’s neck, and then she’s kissing Michael, their tongues sliding together easily.

They kiss and kiss, and Philippa works her fingers rapidly in and out of Michael’s sex, while Michael does her best to concentrate on Philippa’s breasts. Then her climax hits her, and she breaks their kiss to throw back her head as she cries aloud in pleasure.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful when she comes?” Philippa asks the Orions, who agree immediately, their lustful gazes raking Michael’s body so that she feels like someone’s set her skin alight.

Philippa smirks, her gaze possessive as her eyes also rake over Michael. Then she leans in and whispers against Michael’s ear, “I could stay here and fuck you for hours, darling, but we still have to find that shrine. Can you back me up if things kick off?”

Michael heaves in a breath, holds it, then exhales slowly and carefully. “Yes,” she murmurs.

“Good girl.” She slides her fingers out of Michael, then once more holds them out to be sucked clean. She taps Michael’s thigh, and she climbs off the Terran’s lap with a suppressed moan as she feels the ache between her thighs. 

“I want to try something new,” Georgiou tells the two Orions, whose eyes light up with obvious pleasure. The man cups his cock, rubbing it suggestively. Then the Terran snatches up a weapon and arms it as she places it against the man’s cock. He yelps in fear, and Michael grabs the woman before she can try to escape.

“Where is the shrine of Molor?” Georgiou demands, pressing the weapon hard against the man’s rapidly detumescing cock. 

The man swallows hard, then begins babbling rather incoherently, and the Terran nods at Michael, who twists the woman’s arms painfully behind her back. “Where’s the shrine?” Michael asks.

The woman answers, gabbling out directions, but more coherently than her partner.

“Good. Now get out before I shoot your balls off,” Georgiou snarls, and the pair scramble across the bed and flee.

“Get dressed, Michael,” Philippa orders, and she can only obey.

They pull on their clothes rapidly, then head out of the curtained off area, to find what looks like a riot kicking off. Michael spots Tyler and Tilly across the bar, and shouts, then grabs at Georgiou’s sleeve to tug her along. 

Unfortunately, the next moment she’s forced to duck a barstool someone throws at her head and in the process she loses sight of and all contact with Georgiou. She groans in dismay, then concentrates on making it across the bar to join up again with Tilly and Tyler.

“I think we should get out of here,” Tilly says loudly near Michael’s ear.

“Agreed,” Michael says, and leads the way out of the bar, then some distance down the street until they hit a quieter area. 

“Where’s Captain Georgiou?” Tyler asks as they regroup. 

“The two of us got separated in the riot,” Michael answers. She pulls out her communicator and sets it to the private channel she set up for the four of them before they left the _Discovery_.

“Burnham to Georgiou, come in please.” She waits a beat, then two, then three, before repeating the call for contact. She feels Tilly shift beside her and sees Tyler’s concerned expression, then repeats the call. When no one responds, she contacts the _Discovery_ instead, and explains the situation to Saru. He asks her to wait a moment and she hears him speaking to Bryce, then a rumble from Bryce that’s unclear, before Saru responds.

“It appears Captain Georgiou is making her way below the surface of Qo’noS.”

“Thank you, Saru. Burnham out.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Tilly observes with a shiver.

“You’re not alone,” Michael says. “In fact, I don’t like any of this at all. I’m beginning to think that the Admiral’s plan is actually different to what we three have been led to believe. And I think we’d better get back to the ship so that I can talk to the Admiral.”

The other two nod, so Michael contacts the _Discovery_ again and tells Saru that they’re ready to beam back up.

Once aboard the ship she heads straight for the Captain’s Ready Room and has Bryce patch through the call to Admiral Cornwell there. She paces in front of the windows as she waits for the Admiral to appear.

Fortunately, she doesn’t have long to wait before Katrina Cornwell’s holographic form appears. 

“Admiral Cornwell.”

“Specialist Burnham. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.” 

“I’m sorry to report that I’ve lost contact with Captain Georgiou.” It feels strange to call the former Terran Emperor ‘Captain’, but she assumes she has to keep up this bizarre fiction. “I’m concerned that she’s gone off grid to do something drastic.”

“That doesn’t seem very likely,” the Admiral says, but she doesn’t meet Michael’s eyes as she says it.

“You don’t know the Terran like I do. She wouldn’t think twice of destroying the Klingons outright.” She pauses. “Please tell me that isn’t the plan.”

“That isn’t the plan.”

“Once more, Admiral, but with feeling,” Michael says, aware that she’s being insubordinate, but too angry to care.

“You know, I'd have thought you, of all people, would be glad to see the Klingons destroyed.” 

“That just proves that you don't know me very well, Admiral.”

“I’ve read your personnel file, including Captain Georgiou’s notes about your mutiny. You advocated Starfleet firing on the Klingons before they’d fired at us.”

“I’ve changed since then, Admiral. And more recent events have made me even more determined to stick to Starfleet’s Regulations.” She doesn’t dare refer more directly to _Discovery_ ’s visit to the Terran Empire. “Not only do we not fire first, we don’t espouse genocide.”

“What do you propose we do instead, Burnham?”

“We still have the Klingon L’Rell aboard. Let’s make use of her.”

“Go on.”

Michael outlines her spur-of-the-moment plan and to her relief the Admiral listens attentively and without interrupting.

“I think you’d better go and talk to L’Rell and persuade her fast,” the Admiral says as Michael finishes speaking. “Then you’d better go and explain the change of plan to Captain Georgiou.”

Michael nods. “I’m on it, Admiral.”

“Good luck, Burnham.” She disappears in a haze of golden light, and Michael leans out of the doorway to the Ready Room. Saru spots her immediately and crosses towards her without her needing to ask him. 

“Is Tyler here?” she asks Saru.

“He is.” Saru leans around the doorway and beckons, and after a moment Tyler joins them.

Michael makes sure the Ready Room’s door is secured, then explains events so far, although she omits any mention of the Emperor’s sexual liaisons. She then runs over the plan that she’d outlined to the Admiral. 

Saru immediately says, “Go talk to L’Rell and see if you can persuade her. Unless you tell me otherwise, I shall assume you’ve persuaded her and have beamed back down to Qo’noS to stop the Terran. Good luck, Michael.”

“Thank you, Saru.” She looks at Tyler, who nods, then falls in behind her as she follows Saru out of the Ready Room with a sense of impending doom nipping at her heels.

MB-PG-MB-PG-MB

“Change of plans,” Michael tells Georgiou from behind the other woman’s back.

She turns. “Really? Says who.”

“Deactivate the detonator, Philippa. Your freedom is still granted. Here’s the proof.” Michael tosses a disc at her which she checks, then she laughs.

“You talked them out of it, didn’t you?”

“A planetary slaughter? Yes.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. When I did this in my universe it didn’t wipe out the Klingons. A decent number should be able to save themselves. Plus, they’ll have an advantage – no Terran ships firing on them as they try to escape.”

Michael shakes her head. “Turn it off.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I was doing this for you? By ending the war I set you free from the guilt and pain you carry because of it.” Georgiou gives her a serious look.

Michael moves closer. “Not buying it.”

“Pffttt. Worth a try.”

“You really are nothing like my Georgiou, are you?” Michael asks regretfully.

“No, and I never have been. She’s dead, Michael. There are no second chances.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I do like you. We were so good together. Fucking you was a real pleasure. So why not join me? The bomb is in position. We have the detonator. Starfleet and Klingon alike will be at our mercy.”

“I had much the same thought.” Michael starts forward to take the detonator. “Give it to me.”

Georgiou draws a weapon, arming it, and points it at Michael, who’s standing at point blank range by now. 

“Take your freedom. In exchange for the detonator,” Michael says wearily. “Or try to escape my ship and its crew, and be hunted by the Federation for the rest of your days.”

Georgiou laughs. “You think your Federation scares me?”

“Not particularly.” Michael shifts a little closer. “But the only way you’re gonna get past me is to kill me.” She closes her hand over Georgiou’s steading the weapon and presses it against her chest. “So you’ll have to watch me die. Again.” They stare at each other for what seems like an interminable amount of time before Michael adds, “And did I mention being hunted for the rest of your days?” 

“Ugh!” Georgiou exclaims, looking away as she disarms the weapon. She hands over the detonator. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Be good, Philippa,” Michael says.

“Or you’ll come for me?” Georgiou asks.

“Make sure I don’t have to.”

Georgiou stares at her for a very long moment, then nods and walks away, and Michael heaves a sigh of relief, then she opens her communicator and calls for Tyler to bring L’Rell in. It has been an impossibly long day, she decides, but with any luck, it’s also the last day of the war.

III

Michael watches with Captain Pike and the security team as Spock’s shuttle is brought aboard the _Discovery_ , after being disabled by the ship and tractored into the Shuttle Bay. The shuttle ramp extends – and Emperor Georgiou walks out of the ship, her hands raised high, to be greeted by Nhan, her security team, and Michael Burnham with their phasers hot.

“Captain Georgiou,” Pike says.

Nhan and her security team immediately disarm their phasers and relax at their Captain’s acknowledgement. Michael, however, does not, even as Georgiou lowers her arms.

“Captain Pike.” Georgiou says, then looks over at her some time lover. “Michael.”

From the corner of her eye Michael sees Pike glance sideways at her and notice that she still has her phaser hot. “Commander.”

Michael shakes her head very slightly, then lowers her weapon and disarms it. 

“Quite the welcome, my dear,” Georgiou says with an infuriating smirk. Michael wants to wipe that smirk off her face, and at the same time, she wants to kiss the Terran senseless.

She’s still got half an eye on Pike and she sees him staring at her, then looking at Georgiou, his expression thoughtful.

The Terran strides down the ramp, looking straight at Pike for a moment before glancing over at Michael, who nods the tiniest amount, her jaw tightening. 

“Let’s head to my Ready Room,” Pike says to Georgiou. “Burnham, you’re with me.” 

“Sir.” Michael can do nothing but accompany him and Georgiou through the ship’s hallways. 

“We met at the Academy,” Pike reminds Georgiou. “Been a couple thousand light years since then.” 

“Indeed.”

“You were a force to be reckoned with,” Pike continues, and Michael can tell he’s probing the Terran, trying to work out what’s going on, as much from Michael’s reaction to Georgiou, as from his feeling of uncertainty about the tension in the air. 

“Sharpest tool in the shed. Despite being able to drink any of us under the table, you had every regulation down by week two,” he muses. 

“You’re tactfully asking why I didn’t identify myself when you hailed,” Georgiou says.

“Identification is standard procedure. And that’s not an answer. You haven’t lost a step, Captain.”

“I appreciate the compliment.”

Pike tries another tack. “Starfleet records show you’re retired.”

“Do I look retired?” she asks, sounding amused.

As they wait for a turbolift, Pike observes, “You know, I had a cousin like you. She only ever gave a straight answer in church. So the only other explanation is you’re on a classified mission.” 

Georgiou tilts her head, but only answers with a “Hmm.” 

Michael can feel the Captain’s patience at the Terran’s non-answers is getting shorter and she wants to say something, but she doesn’t want to risk revealing that Georgiou is not the woman he knew at the Academy.

“You like being back in the saddle?” Pike asks.

Georgiou stares at him, too intensely Michael feels. “It’s an invigorating ride.”

At that point Pike gives up, and Michael can’t blame him. Then, once the turbolift is in motion, Georgiou delves into a pouch on her belt and says, “This should explain everything.” She opens her hand and reveals a Starfleet badge with a black quadrant on it.

“Section 31?” Michael asks disbelievingly. She feels her heart sink at this information – she strongly suspects that the Terran Emperor is the worst person to have in that shadowy organisation.

Later, after Pike’s conversation with Leland via holographic communications, Pike tells Georgiou that she’s free to go and Michael walks her out of his Ready Room and accompanies her back to the Shuttle Bay.

When she makes her feelings known about Georgiou working for Section 31, she is not very surprised when the Terran reacts aggressively. “You’re the one who brought me to this insufferable place. You don’t get to be surprised I’m here. And when I find Spock, I’ll be sure to pass along your regards.”

Michael steps forward into Georgiou’s personal space. “If you lay a hand on my brother –”

“You’ll what?” asks the Terran. “Ahhh. Now here’s a woman I recognise.” 

The way she’s looking at Michael makes her feel uncomfortable, and not just because her sex is throbbing with want as her body remembers how good it felt to be fucked by Georgiou.

Nevertheless, she does her best to stay focused. She points to the entrance to the Shuttle Bay. “Shuttle Bay’s through there. I’m sure you need to get back to your snake pit.”

Georgiou smirks as she hisses at her, then she grabs the back of Michael’s neck and hauls her in to kiss her thoroughly. Michael’s knees go weak as desire hits her hard, and she stumbles, but the Terran supports her.

“Your ship disabled my craft, if you recall. So I can’t go anywhere just now. Unless you’ve got somewhere you’d like to take me?” Her smirk’s become a feral grin by now.

Michael taps the wall panel. “Computer, two to transport to guest quarters, Deck 3,” she orders. They reappear just inside the doors of the guest quarters, and Michael immediately calls out, “Computer, privacy protocol”, which means they can’t be interrupted until Michael cancels the privacy protocol.

Georgiou opens her mouth to speak, but Michael reaches out and claps a hand over her mouth. “No you don’t,” she says firmly, then spins the other woman around and presses her body hard against the doors.

“I want you to fuck me against these doors,” Michael says, feeling surprised when her words elicit a soft moan from the Emperor. “Make me scream.”

“Your wish is my command,” Georgiou says, and yanks Michael’s uniform jacket off, almost tearing it in her haste. She then tugs Michael’s pants open and shoves two fingers into her, grinning savagely when she discovers she is already incredibly wet. 

“Did you want to jump me in the turbolift?” she purrs. “Because I was ready for that. We could’ve made that hardass Captain of yours watch.”

Michael finds herself shuddering with pleasure, in part because of the image Georgiou has just painted, but also because the Terran is fingerfucking her with vigor. She has her first orgasm pressed against the door, and although she doesn’t scream, she certainly cries out in pleasure.

“Do you want my dagger, or shall I use my toy on you?” Philippa asks as Michael’s trying to stiffen her quivering knees. 

“Toy?” she repeats, bewildered. 

For answer, Philippa opens her pants and eases out a very realistic looking cock. It's long, thick, and lies heavily in her hand. “Shall I fuck you with this, my dear?”

“Fuck me with them both, consecutively,” Michael answers, mesmerised.

“As you wish,” Philippa says with her usual smirk.

She pulls Michael’s tank and bra off, and Michael knows she must make quite a sight, plastered against the door, with her pants and panties around her ankles, but otherwise naked, and still shaking from the intensity of her first orgasm. Then Philippa pulls her dagger out of the top of her boot, and slides it, handle-first, into Michael’s slick heat. 

“Oh fuck!” Michael whispers as it fills her.

“Yes, my dear. I plan to fuck you a lot.” Philippa begins kissing her, her mouth bruising, simultaneously with fucking her with the dagger, and Michael wonders if she’s just having a really vivid sex dream, but the sweat beading along her hairline and gathering in the small of her back, the scent of Philippa’s leather clothing in her nostrils, the nip of Philippa’s teeth biting into her flesh, and above all, the sensation of the dagger handle being thrust repeatedly in and out of Michael’s sex, convince her it’s all too real.

She comes hard, screaming Philippa’s name, as the Terran bites the side of her neck.

“Delicious, my darling. Simply delicious.”

Michael’s grateful for the other woman’s arm pinning her against the door otherwise she knows she’d be sliding bonelessly down said door. 

Philippa kisses her languidly for a few minutes, then eases the dagger out of her body. “Are you ready for round two, Michael?”

She heaves in a ragged breath, then looks Philippa dead in the eye. “Fuck me, Emperor,” she says firmly, and Philippa’s eyes go wide, then she gives Michael her feral grin again.

“Gladly, my dear.”

Before she does, however, Philippa takes off her leather coat, revealing the zip up basque she’d worn back on Qo’noS, and the sight makes Michael moan, and she’d swear she grows wetter.

“I was hoping you would remember this,” the Terran says with a satisfied smirk. 

“How could I forget?” Michael asks. 

“You may play with my tits while I fuck you with this bad boy.” Philippa’s cock looks even bigger and harder to Michael, and she groans. Then she reaches for Philippa’s zipper and eases it down, pushing aside the two halves of the basque to cup the Terran’s breasts in shaking hands. Philippa leans in, trapping Michael’s hands between their bodies, and she feels the cock sliding into her and can’t help moaning again.

Michael loses track of how many orgasms she’s had by the time she finally calls a halt to proceedings, but she knows the number is into double digits. She’s so boneless that Philippa has to help her into the bathroom to shower, and hold her up once they’re in there.

“Fucking you is a delicious experience, my dear,” the Terran tells her as she helps Michael wash away the sweat and the sex smell. “You’re always so delightfully responsive.”

“Thank you,” Michael says, still feeling dazed by the endorphins flooding her system. She towels off, then gets dressed with shaking hands. “And thank you for giving me what I needed.”

“Always, darling.” Philippa gives her one last, lingering kiss, then saunters off down the hallway as soon as Michael lifts the privacy protocol.

Her heady good mood vanishes in the Terran’s wake, however, when she’s immediately summoned to the Captain’s Ready Room by Pike. He sounds pissed off, she realises, and it occurs to her, rather belatedly, that she has basically disappeared for ninety minutes in the middle of her shift.

She enters his Ready Room with a sense of trepidation.

“Computer, privacy protocol,” he calls, and she supposes she should be grateful that the rest of the Bridge Crew aren’t about to hear her telling off.

“Nice of you to stop by, Commander,” Puke begins, and she does her best not to hunch her shoulders in response to his caustic tone. 

“Sir, I –” she begins, but he holds up his hand.

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

She swallows – he sounds less angry than bitterly disappointed, she thinks, and cringes mentally.

“Commander Burnham, I have no issue with giving people personal time, even in the middle of their shift, if I can spare them, provided they ask me for it. Taking ninety minutes of personal time in the middle of your shift without asking permission, and then locking the door, so to speak, is another matter entirely. Where were you?”

“Catching up with Captain Georgiou,” Michael answers, knowing that Philippa’s shuttle is on its way by now.

“’Catching up with Captain Georgiou’,” he repeats. “For ninety minutes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And is there any reason why your catch up with Captain Georgiou would require you to shower afterwards?”

Michael swallows, wondering how he knows she’s recently showered.

“You still carry the scent of it with you,” he tells her shortly, and she has a moment to wonder how he’s so familiar with her scent that he can tell she’s showered recently, but she shoves that thought firmly to the back of her brain. 

“The fact that you’ve just showered and that you engaged the privacy protocol on the guest quarters on deck three suggests to me that you and the Captain were engaged in sexual intimacy. What you do in your spare time is your own business, as is who you choose to do it with, but I will not tolerate you taking time out in the middle of your shift, and in the middle of a crisis, to fuck your former captain, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Michael says immediately, a little surprised by his use of the word ‘fuck’, and wishing he’d used a euphemism as she’s now reminded of how much sex she’s just had, and also of Philippa’s remark about making him watch the two of them fucking.

“I trust Captain Georgiou hasn’t forced you into an intimate relationship with her?” he asks, and Michael decides to give up being surprised by this conversation.

“No, sir, I started it.”

He blinks, and she wonders if he wasn’t expecting that, or if he wasn’t expecting to be told such a thing. 

“It’s not what you think,” she adds, and he frowns.

“How do you know what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t. It’s just –” She swallows. “There’s something I think I ought to tell you, sir. Something I believe you _should_ know, even if Starfleet’s classified it.”

“Sit down, Burnham.”

Michael subsides into a chair gratefully as she hadn’t been sure how much longer her legs were going to continue to hold her up.

“I’m not asking you to tell me anything, but if you think there’s something I should know, even though it’s classified, then I’ll listen.”

“Thank you, sir.” She scrubs a hand over her face, organising her thoughts, then says, “That wasn’t the Captain Georgiou you know who came visiting today.”

“I suspected as much,” he says, and off her surprised look, he adds, “Please, Burnham, I’m not a total idiot. Even leaving aside the missing ninety minutes, she reacted oddly to my conversation with her. On top of which, I judge you wouldn’t keep your phaser hot and pointed at your former Captain for no reason. So who is she?”

“The former Terran Emperor Philippa Georgiou Augustus Iaponius Centarius,” Michael says, and he blinks.

“Terran Emperor?”

“Yes sir.” She explains, as succinctly as she can, how the original Philippa Georgiou died on T’Kuvma’s blade, how the Terran Gabriel Lorca had brought her aboard the _Discovery_ , how she and Stamets had figured out how to make the spore drive work, and how Lorca had used it to jump the ship back into his own universe where the Federation doesn’t exist, but the Terran Empire, the scourge of that Mirror Universe, exists and does its best to wipe out all alien life.

She goes on to explain her counterpart’s relationship to Emperor Georgiou, the way that the Emperor had reluctantly helped her to get back to the _Discovery_ from the Emperor’s own ship, the _ISS Charon_ , and how she had snatched the Emperor off the _Charon_ before her ‘glorious’ death.

“You don’t have to answer this,” Pike says, “but were you in an intimate relationship with our Georgiou?”

“No, sir. Although I would have liked to be. I loved Philippa Georgiou very much – she was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You said you initiated the relationship with the Emperor,” he observes.

Michael sighs. “I’m aware that it’s not exactly healthy, sir.”

He snorts. “Of course you’re aware of that – you’re not a fool.” He stares at her thoughtfully, and she tries not to shift uncomfortably. 

“I’m not going to report this, Burnham,” he says eventually. “But I am going to make a request to Command that a psychologist or psychiatrist joins this crew. Not just to talk to you,” he adds before she can object. “But you do need to agree to talk with whoever Command sends. If you don’t, this incident will go on your file.” 

Michael nods, aware that she’s getting off lightly.

“You’re an excellent officer, Michael, and both Captain Georgiou, our Captain Georgiou, and Admiral Cornwell considered you to have great potential as a Captain. Commander Saru also regards you very highly. He made it very clear in his report that you were instrumental in getting the _Discovery_ through the War – although I now suspect that report was actually referring to your actions during the _Discovery_ ’s time in the Terran Empire.”

“Probably,” Michael agrees. 

“I’m not going to censure you for your choice of partner, but I am going to ask you to exercise some caution. And some self-control, please.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Thank you for telling me about Georgiou. I shall exercise some caution around her myself. I imagine she’d eat me for breakfast.”

Michael can’t help smirking at that, and he tilts his head, eyebrows lifted, and she swallows before saying, very quietly, “She called you a ‘hardass’, sir.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course she did. Very well, Commander, you’re dismissed.”

“Sir.” She nods at him, turning as he cancels the Privacy Protocol, and heads to her station. She tries not to wonder where Georgiou has gone or when she’s going to see the other woman again. She has a job to do, including helping Paul Stamets to rescue Tilly if they possibly can, and she absolutely cannot spend time thinking about the Terran Emperor.

 _Focus, Michael,_ she tells herself sternly, and is glad when Stamets asks her to join him in the lab. Helping to rescue Tilly would be a good way to make up for her slack behaviour earlier in the day she decides. 

 

_*** Transmission Ends ***_


End file.
